46. Rape

By Rose Strailo

It’s sad when you can use it as a weapon to hurt others. It’s violent, painful…killing the soul with the memories of the pain, the tearing…the moans of pleasure from the person above you.
I sob and moan as I remember. I try to tear my skin off as I remember it all. It horrifies me, it drives me to the edge. I don’t know what to do any more. I can’t help but scream at my memories of that night.
Haunting whispers of them, nightmares of the pain and helplessness, and my own anguished screams that no one else can hear, even as I try so hard to make them stop.

*

Return to Index